I'm not actually reading anything right now (the horror! too much work though), but I did read two books last month.
First was Insignificant Others by Stephen McCauley. I didn't hate it, but I certainly didn't love it as I have loved others of McCauley's books (like Object of My Affection, True Enough, Man of the House, etc.). He explores the same territory as always—gay couples living in Boston and Cambridge—but, not surprisingly, his characters have gotten a little older over the years. So while I appreciated that he's allowing his characters to age, I was still not happy with all the infidelity and deceit. Maybe it's just not my community, but it didn't feel right. I liked the way it ended though.
In any event, I do get a huge kick out of McCauley's use of language—some of his bons mots are worthy of Oscar Wilde. For instance:
From what I can tell, the chief distinguishing factor between children and adults is that children hear everything while appearing not to and adults hear nothing while pretending to listen.
Elsewhere the narrator talks about his first visit to IKEA when the chain finally came to the Boston area:
My reaction to it reminded me of my first visit to a bathhouse in Chicago, deades earlier. I'd approached with enthusiasm and excitement, and had, upon entering, felt overwhelmed by the plethora of possibilities. Fifteen minutes later, though, after adjusting to the light, I'd started to notice the flaws and potential hazards, and I realized there wasn't much I wanted to take home and nothing I'd care to see on a daily basis.
The other book I read was Olive Kitteridge by Elizabeth Strout, which was beautiful and moving, but really, really sad. It's a novel told in the form of 13 interconnecting stories, each of which could easily stand on its own. Olive Kitteridge, retired junior high math teacher in a small Maine town, appears in each story—sometimes as the star, sometimes as a mere mention by another character. I personally preferred the stories that featured her prominently, as she was fascinating to get to know. She's stubborn and opinionated, but she also displays the deep feelings of love and pain and confusion and regret and everything else that makes us human. Strout's writing is plain but gorgeous; I'm so glad to hear she has other (traditional) novels that I can seek out now. I highly recommend this book (did I mention it won the Pulitzer?), although some of it was heartbreakingly sad.
What should I read next, while I wait for Jeffrey Eugenides's new novel to come out in 33 days (but who's counting?).
I am really enjoying Caleb's Crossing, by Geraldine Brooks. And I loved Just Kids, by Patti Smith about her friendship with Robert Mapplethorpe. I never related much to the art or the music that was their world. But, oh, the book is something.
Posted by: Sandy | September 08, 2011 at 10:53 PM
happy to hear you too loved Olive Kitteridge.....Diane Rehm (NPR) had this as one of her book club selections...and had so little sympathy for Olive K that it changed by view of Rehm....
Posted by: PatW | September 09, 2011 at 08:21 AM
At Cliff's prompting, I am reading books I missed along the way. I am currently reading The French Lieutenant's Woman by John Fowles and loving it.
I am also reading Souviens-Toi by Mary Higgens Clark.
Yes, I know... Mark Higgens Clark?! This is not a recommendation. The text is in French and I happened upon it in a thrift store. It's good practice for me.
Posted by: Steve | September 09, 2011 at 11:01 AM
I loved Wolf Hall a lot. Also The 1000 Autumns of Jacob de Zoet. Also, a somewhat older book, A Suitable Boy by Vikram Seth.
Posted by: Wendy | September 09, 2011 at 06:59 PM